


Dearly Beloved

by TheTwistedWillow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Angry Castiel/Dean Winchester, Angry Kissing, Blow Jobs, Can't spell subtext without sex, Canon Compliant, Castiel/Dean Winchester in the Bunker, Dean needs to learn how to use his words, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Human Castiel in the Bunker, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Marriage, Meddling Sam, Mildly Dubious Consent, POV Dean Winchester, POV Sam Winchester, Sam Ships It, Sam is a Little Shit, Secret Marriage, Secret Wedding, Sexual Tension, Subtext, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-25 23:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12046740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTwistedWillow/pseuds/TheTwistedWillow
Summary: Based on the prompt:Sam applies to be a priest/minister online... and comes up with a plan to make Dean and Castiel husbands.Step 1. Get them to say I DO somehow.Step 2. Get them to sign the papers without knowing...Step 3. Pronounce them husbands and hightail it outta there!You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll puke in your mouth a little.Okay, maybe not so much on the crying or puking. But I do hope this fic makes you laugh.WARNING: Dubious consent.





	1. Sam's POV

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Max](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Max/gifts).



Sam leaves Dean and Cas at the bunker, to unpack from the last hunt, while he runs errands and get groceries.

If he didn't go then Dean would and all his brother would bring back is red meat and pie. For all the miles Dean clocks in at the stove one would think he'd experiment with a bit more variety. As it stands now, half of the stuff in the fridge has mutated into inedible forms of homegrown botulism and penicillin so the grocery store is Sam's errand-endgame.

But first he needs to pick up suits from the dry-cleaner and pickup the mail from their PO Box. They don't get much beyond online orders and important documents. On a rare occasion they may get a coded message from another hunter when one of them has to lay low and to let the brothers know when to come sniffing around and save the day if said hunter-in-hiding doesn't resurface before then.

But mostly what comes through the post office has been shit Cas orders. The worst time was when he'd holed himself up in Sam’s room and discovered infomercials, maybe a year ago now. He's a lot more selective now, thanks to Dean, but most parcels that come through are still almost always because of Cas.

When it first began it was actually really funny to Sam but flabbergasting to Dean, who instantly chastised Cas for spending money on useless crap. Cas had insisted the Snuggie infomercial convinced him that these things were crucial to the happiness of humans everywhere.

Sam could see a twitch at the corner of Dean’s mouth as his brother fought a smile. Cas only wanted to take care of them, after all. How was he supposed to know that they don't actually need a lifetime supply of dried acacia berries when he was made to believe that they were necessary for human health and vitality? Why wouldn't Cas want that for his friends?

Sam watched as the two looked at each other; Cas apologetic and trying to understand while Dean struggled with how to support his friend as _just a friend,_ without coming across as an asshole. Let's face it, Dean's methods of showing he cares aren't exactly playful noogies and giggles.

So Sam took their stare-off as his cue to leave. He was sidelined, which was par for the course, the other two forgetting he was even there until he cleared his throat and made his exit.

They couldn't see Sam anymore but he could hear his brother heave a sigh once he rounded the corner into the hall. Dean was probably laying a hand on Cas’ shoulder and looking at him earnestly. His voice softer as he said, “I love it, Cas. Thanks. Just… next time talk to me. I mean, if you want. Not like,” Dean huffed nervously, “you're a child but sometimes people talk to each other before making a purchase, ya know, to get input on if it's a good idea or not.”

Sam snorted and walked off at that point. The only people he knows who talk before making purchases are couples. Dean is hardly a parental figure or life guide to Cas. So what if Cas doesn't always understand the complexities of human nature or “get” all the rules?

He's fucking how many millennia old. He doesn't need Dean, or anybody, to hold his hand and tell him what he can or can't do. Sam sure as hell doesn't care how Cas spends his money. Err, fraudulent money, but Cas’ to use nonetheless.

So why had Dean gotten his silky boxers in a twist? It's another cog in the dysfunctional machine Sam had learned is referred to as Deastiel or DeanCas, or whatever the cool kids call it these days.

Dean cares because Dean is head-over-heels, gone-off-the-deep-end, foaming-at-the-mouth, madly and sickeningly in-love with his best friend.

And Dean wants to be there for Cas, wants them to work together, to be a couple and do _couple things_ except his head’s too far up his ass to see that they're basically already doing it, even if they never ever _ever_ talk about it. And they certainly don't name it or call it out for what it is: a relationship.

Which is why Sam’s day just took an amazing turn. In his hands, fresh from his PO Box, is a packet that contains a certificate naming him as an ordained minister. He had almost forgotten he had applied.

A couple weeks back he had been going in circles researching a possible demonic possession case. With most possession cases, especially when religious people are involved, they use their priest costumes rather than FBI suits. Except Sam managed to destroy his on the last hunt he had worn it on, and then forgot to replace it, what with all the issues with the Darkness to deal with. The world was at stake and ending, no big deal.

So in the middle of researching the demonic possession case he ordered a new outfit online before taking a mental break, switching from demon lore to his email.

Ads tailored to his search content pop up all the time so it was no surprise, since he just ordered priest clothes, to find the square ad next to his inbox advertising that anyone can apply to be a minister online. It instantly piqued Sam’s interest so he found a reputable site and filled out the forms.

At the time he wasn't thinking about his brother. What he _was_ thinking about was how handy it could be to be licensed. They could save time getting into tight places, it would make it easier blessing sacred ground or water, and they could help other hunters, say, get marriage licenses for personal or undercover reasons. Fake or real, he wouldn't judge.

But now that he holds the letter and all pertinent information in his hands, he has a new idea in mind. He almost never meddles when it comes to Dean and Cas. Time to get the cogs working together for once and turn dysfunctional into functional.

He's going to need to make an unexpected and unplanned pit-stop, just a quick visit to the county clerk, before he grabs groceries.

Sam has to wait a full three weeks for everything to be ready, before he can begin the final and critical stage of his plan. Because Sam knows, _he knows_ , once it is over that Dean will be more than happy with it. If anyone deserves happiness it's Dean. And  _if_ his brother ends up being less than okay with it, well, Sam knows how to right it. But he's secretly pulling for the two dumbasses to to come through.

What Sam is doing it's-- it's just a nudge, just a taste. Okay, actually it's more like a shove and ‘ _talk it the fuck out now_ ’ 'cause shit is real but… semantics.

What he needs is for Dean and Cas to be too distracted to pay close enough attention to what Sam is doing. Making them exhausted seems to be a better idea than getting them drunk because he's already fucking enough with consent. He doesn't need them wasted and forgetful on top of it, just tired enough to not read the fine print. He deliberately keeps them up late two nights in a row with some seriously confusing research on the most messed up lore Sam can find, and then wakes them early the following mornings.

On the morning of the third day he goes to their respective rooms to wake them up early again, telling them to meet in the kitchen. It's supposed to be rainy and thunderous, a perfect day to stay indoors and prevent them from going on this supposed hunt Sam has cooked up. An ideal day for a wedding.

Sam meets bleary, glaring green eyes when Dean stomps into the kitchen. He deliberately didn't make coffee so Dean grumbles and starts a pot. Cas is not far behind, one side of his hair sticking straight up, dark circles under his eyes. He's at least not using his smitey eyes... yet. This is perfect.

Sam at least has the decency to wait to speak until both men are huddled over steamy mugs across from him at the kitchen table.

He clears his throat. “So I guess we can't go on that hunt today after all,” he starts, ignoring the double bitchfaces leveled at him. “It's severe thunderstorms until about 3pm.”

“Why the fuck didn't you check the weather before waking me up?” Dean groans, laying his forehead against the table and next to his mug.

Cas just glares, his mouth a straight line of discontent.

“Well, we can go over the case one more time, really nail the details down. I mean, this is a pretty big case, Dean.” Sam doesn't mention the fact that ‘case’ here is merely a metaphor. His real case is getting these knuckleheads together.

Cas stands abruptly. “I'm going back to my room.”

Sam was expecting this. The quirks of his brother and friend are just too predictable, and it occurs to him how much they really do all hang out together too much for him to even pick up on this small a nuance. “Come on, Cas, at least sit and finish your coffee first.” Pretending to be annoyed and offended he adds, “You're always sprinting off, leaving us.”

Cas deadpans. “I'm just going to my room, Sam. Don't be melodramatic.”

“Well, how do we know that?” Sam baits him. “Sometimes you run off without telling us. I mean, you do say it's for the greater good, but do you even want to stay here?”

Cas slowly sits back down and casts his eyes down to the murky black liquid before him. “If you'll have me, you know I'll stay.”

Dean perks up a bit, lifting his head. The last time Cas had been human is still a sore spot, for all of them, but probably no one feels as guilty as Dean does. Because he blames himself regarding Cas' struggle with feeling that he belongs. “Hey, back off, Sam. What's with the third degree?”

Sam holds his hands up. “I just know this case is huge and angelic help could do a lot in our favor. Cas has gone behind our backs before so just making sure we're on the same page.” Sam turns to Cas. “You do understand why I'm asking, as a concerned friend, right, Cas?”

“I do,” Cas says slowly, bringing his mug up and blinking at Sam in an odd mixture of confusion and hurt but Sam has to fight a grin. He will make amends; Cas is always very forgiving when it comes to the Winchesters. One 'I do' down, one to go.

“You sound more like an asshole than a concerned friend to me. Seriously, what's your problem?” Dean asks, ever in Cas’ defense.

“You're right. I'm sorry, Cas. It's all these late nights, they're getting to me. You know I want you here. You'll never overstay your welcome. I can't speak for Dean but I mean that from the bottom of my heart.”

“What the hell! What do you mean you can't speak for me? You know how I feel about this. Of course I want Cas to stay.”

“Do you?” Sam implores.

“Yes, I do,” Dean says emphatically, all fatigue wiped away and replaced with angry panic. Sam really does feel bad about upsetting Dean but he lets the conversation to continue to unfold before him. He watches Dean turn to Cas and earnestly tell him, “We’re your family, man. You always have a place here, with us, wherever it is and no matter what. I told you I'd never tell you to leave again.”

“Okay, Dean.” Cas still looks confused. “Though I am still unsure why this conversation became about me leaving the bunker. I did not mention going anywhere except to go back to my room because _someone,_ " Cas glares at Sam again, "decided waking me up, for no good reason, was a good idea.”

Sam waves a hand to dismiss his comment. “Forget about it. Like I said, I'm exhausted and just putting my foot in my mouth.” Sam gets up to leave and gives himself a mental high-five. He got both of them to make a verbal form of commitment. Now comes the trickier part.

Sam waits about two hours before he approaches them again. With nothing else to do but kill time they've put in one of Dean’s favorite Star Wars movies. Sam lingers until an intense scene comes on, thrusting a few sheets of paper onto Dean’s Snuggie-clad lap, clicking a pen open and holding it out.

“Damn it, Sam, what's this?” Dean glances at the top page. 

“I'm running to the post office. Need your John Hancock on these before I can go.”

“What are they for?” Dean asks, pressing ‘pause’ on the remote. He's too annoyed to look himself, staring at Sam instead.

“Last anyone knew Jimmy was missing right? So there's no death certificate. Cas and I talked about this before, about making him an official human by putting in a name change request, from Jimmy Novak to Castiel. I can go into all the boring details or you can just sign as a witness for me real quick and get back to your movie.”

“Fine,” Dean sighs. He starts signing the paperwork where Sam had placed red post-it arrows, all legitimate forms with the last page being the marriage license. What Dean doesn't know is Sam already forged the name-change for Cas weeks ago, and it was one of the reasons Sam had to wait a few weeks for this day, in order to make the marriage license valid. The forms are merely a diversion because Sam couldn't very well just hand that one sheet over and get Dean to sign.

Before Dean flips to that last page, Sam snatches up the remote and resumes the movie, drawing his brother's attention away from the paperwork. “Sweet, great scene,” Sam says cheerfully.

Dean hastily finishes, adding his chicken scratch to the final line so he can get back to the movie. “Here,” Dean snaps, holding up the papers and pen.

“Your turn, Cas.” Sam comes to the other side of the couch. Cas doesn't give him as hard a time but Dean pauses the movie while Cas insists he can keep it playing. This starts a little back-and-forth, with Cas barely looking at what he's signing to argue with Dean. Seriously, the sexual tension is getting out-of-control. Sam cannot wait for this day to be over.  
  
"You know I'm not as into this movie as you are, Dean. Just play it. It'll only take a few seconds for me to-"  
  
"Dude, this is the best part. I can wait."  
  
"Dean-"

"Cas," Dean says, mocking Cas' voice.   
  
"You're infuriating," Cas says to Dean, signing the license and passing everything back up to Sam.  
  
"Like you said, it only took a few seconds. Now we can finish watching. Together." Dean resumes the movie with a smug smile. 

Sam quickly takes back all the signed papers and hastens to his room. He needs to pack a bag and discard all the name-change forms since he didn't really need them. The marriage license he needs to send off will hang out in Sam’s desk and only be mailed off once Sam knows his little plan has worked, within the allotted time that he has to send it off, of course.

He won't send it off before then and legalize anything if the two really do end up upset by Sam’s meddling. He's about 98% confident all will be well. Okay, more like 54% confident…

After making copies of the real document confirming one James Novak is now Castiel Novak, the marriage license naming them married as Dean and Castiel Winchester, and his minister certification, he seeks out Dean and Cas. Their movie has ended but it's not hard to follow the sound of Dean’s obnoxious laugh to the kitchen.

He sets his bag at his feet and clears his throat loudly. Dean and Cas, who are standing practically toe-to-toe in the middle of the kitchen talking about something humorous judging by their easy smiles, turn to face him. “I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may now kiss and fuck the groom.”

“What the fu-”

“Actually, wait to do the fucking part until I'm gone,” Sam interrupts, ignoring his brother’s pinkening cheeks and sputtering. Cas narrows his eyes and opens his mouth like he wants to say something but nothing comes out.

Sam places the copied forms onto the table to show them that he's serious and that it's real. “Enjoy your honeymoon here or go somewhere, I don't care. Either way, I'm gone for the week.”

Sam picks up his bag and turns to go, calling out a, “Just so you know, there was no hunt. And... you're welcome," over his shoulder. With a pleased smirk Sam pulls the bunker door closed behind him.

 


	2. Dean's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, everyone wanted a part 2 to see the reaction from Dean and Cas. I just have two words for this chapter: sexual tension.

Dean hears Sam yell, “You're welcome,” followed by the echoing squeak of the bunker door swinging open and shut.

“What the hell just happened?” Dean asks, turning to Cas.

“I'm not sure,” Cas says, turning around to pick up the papers Sam left on the table. “Perhaps these are a clue?”

Dean steps up next to him and glances over his shoulder. “What is it?”

Cas hands over the top page, a formal document confirming that his name is legally Castiel Novak. “Hey, wait a sec. I thought we just signed the forms for that.”

“It would appear we've been ‘duped’,” Cas says dryly, handing over the last two pages. “Your brother must have used it as a diversion tactic to get us to sign this one.” Cas looks thoughtfully at the papers in Dean’s hands and admits, “I’m somewhat impressed.”

Across the top of the page Cas is referring to are scrolling letters that spell out ‘Certificate of Marriage’. Near the bottom of the page are signatures: his own, Cas’, Sam’s and two forged witness signatures.

A quick glance at the third page tells Dean all he needs to know. His brother tricked them into getting married and apparently had the power to do it as a bonafide minister.

“I'm gonna kill him,” Dean says, his voice eerily steady for how high his blood pressure feels. He looks up from the certificate and into Cas’ worried blues. “I mean it, I'm gonna kill him. After I kick his ass.”

Cas scoffs and shakes his head. “You will do no such thing.”

“Well, hey, the genius left the paperwork here so we can just rip it up,” Dean offers, side-eyeing Cas for a reaction.

“Dean, these are all clearly copies. We used a blue inked pen to sign and these are black.”

“Okay, let me get this straight. You weren't paying close enough attention to see you were signing a marriage certificate--”

“He had the title covered with post-its!”

“--but you remember the color of the pen we used?”

Cas pouts, his lower lip plump and glistening. “I like blue, so I noticed.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Okay so if this is a copy then where's the real thing?”

Both of them realize it at the same time. Dean groans and smacks his forehead. “He said he was going to the post office today, didn't he? Shit!”

“It would appear he's mailing it off as we stand here doing nothing.”

“Damn it. How could he do this?” Dean crumples up the copies and tosses them in the trash on his way to the fridge for a beer.

“Dean,” Cas chastises. It isn't even noon. “Beer? Really?”

“Yes, beer. Really.” He uses the edge of the kitchen island to pop off the cap and it shoots somewhere across the floor. “You're not my dad, Cas.”

Cas stalks up to stand before him as Dean tips the lip into his mouth, savoring the fizzy malt.

“No, I’m your husband. Put the--” Dean spits an entire mouthful of beer right in Cas’ face in shock and slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. “--great, Dean! Now I have to go change.”

“Wait, here's a towel.” Dean chucks a dish towel at Cas, the corner of it poking him in the eye.

“For fuck’s sake, Dean!” Cas yells, rubbing the heel of a hand against the offended eye.

“Geez, sorry! It was an accident.”

Cas squints at him with his one good eye, the other closed tight. It's actually kind of adorable, especially considering Cas never fixed his hair from this morning, one side smoothed down and the other sticking up all over. He looks like a disgruntled cat. A beer-soaked, grouchy cat.

“Usually when people accidentally hurt someone they're sincerely apologetic, not sarcastic.”

“You know what? Back off! I'm fucking exhausted, my brother is a little shit who just overstepped a huge line, and I'm hungry. I ain't the one going around spouting off that I'm your husband.”

“Remember when I said you were infuriating earlier? I still mean it,” Cas rips his shirt off and uses it to wipe his face instead of the dish towel that had fallen at his feet. He turns around to leave, swiping his shirt across his chest and down his arms where the shimmer of dried beer droplets rest.

Dean leaves his beer and quickly follows, eyes trained on the dip in the low of Cas’ back. “Yeah, right back at ya. He does this and you're just gonna roll over and let it happen? Do you even care?”

Cas ignores him and continues stomping toward his room. Dean can see the back of his neck reddening, probably in anger or maybe embarrassment. If Cas would just stop and talk to him.

Dean picks up his pace so he can reach for Cas’ shoulder, almost stumbling into him when Cas stops and whips around. “You know I hate your silent treatment bullshit,” Dean says, regaining his footing.

Cas shoves him into the hallway wall. “You don't get to tell me what to say, think, or even feel, Dean.”

Dean shakes off how stunned he is and pushes off the wall, shoving Cas back but there’s not as much force behind it. “Oh yeah? Well, if you ever talked about anything then I'd know what you think and feel and I wouldn’t have to make it up for you.”

Cas grabs two fists full of Dean’s shirt and pushes him into the wall again, knocking the wind out of him. This time he holds him there. His one eye looks irritated and he smells like beer, his shirt dropped somewhere along the way. “I may not be an angel anymore but don't think for one second that I can't kick your ass.”

Dean catches his breath and forces a laugh. “Gee, Cas, you really know how to sweet talk your husband.”

Hurt skitters across Cas’ features but he quickly schools himself into his general expression of indifference, letting Dean go and stepping back.

“I have no intention of keeping these ill-gotten vows,” Cas spits out, “so there's no need to worry any further.”

Dean huffs at Cas’ turned back and straightens his shirt, strangely hurt. “Of course not. No one wants to saddle themselves up with this.” He knows by now that he's been goading Cas and his brain is screaming at him to shut up but once he gets going he can't seem to stop.

“Dean,” Cas says testily, in his most smitey voice. “I really wish you wouldn't talk about yourself like that.”

“Well, it's true. Cassie didn't want me, I was with Lisa for a year and we were going nowhere fast. So it's okay, I get it.” The bitterness of rejection taints his words.

“What are you even talking about?” Cas asks in exasperation. “You were the one in the kitchen going on about ripping up documents and being upset that your brother pulled off this stunt. What is it you think you ‘get’ about me?”

“Maybe I'm just tryin’ to figure out what it is you want since you never open up. There was a time you'd confide in me, man.” Dean is getting upset, his voice rising. “Now I have to practically force a reaction from you.”

“Is that what this is,” Cas bellows. “Some twisted way to trick me into a confession? I already had one Winchester trick me today…”

“God, Cas, forget it,” Dean exclaims, suddenly feeling backed into a corner.

“No, I won’t.” Cas voice has become cold and quiet. “You want a reaction?”

Dean finds himself pushed into the wall again but there's 6-feet of pissed off former-angel pressed right against him, hips and stomach pinning him to the spot.

He forgets to breathe when Cas’ fingers find the hair at the nape of his neck and pull his head down a few inches until they meet.

Dean almost doesn’t see it coming, the smooth bastard moves as quick as a blink of an eye. Dean is surprised by soft warmth against his mouth but that doesn’t mean he hesitates to kiss back. Instead he greedily leans forward and wraps his arms around Cas to pull him in tighter, his palms against the heat of Cas’ bare flesh. He slowly runs his hands all over smooth skin and taut muscle.

The stubble around both of their mouths adds shocks of rough sensation to the already stimulating experience each time their lips dance against one another. Cas pulls away first, just slightly, to look at Dean’s swelling, pink lips with dazed eyes, all traces of his anger gone.

But Dean isn't ready for this to stop here. He leans forward to trace the path of Cas’ lips with his tongue, blue eyes widening and lips parting to allow Dean in.  
  
The moment their tongues touch Dean knows he's done for, that he’s passed the point of no return. He makes a pathetic whimpering noise but Cas seems to like it because he pulls back again and plucks at the hem of Dean's shirt.  
  
Dean gets with the program and lifts his arms so Cas can strip him of his shirt. As soon as it drops to the floor Cas is back on him, his hands at Dean’s waist now, fingers splayed wide to cover as much skin as possible. Dean cups Cas’ upper arms, rubbing his hands up to the sides of his biceps and back around to his back.  
  
Between each kiss Cas starts speaking. “You,” kiss, “are,” kiss, “incorrigible.”  
  
Dean lifts his chin to divert Cas’ mouth to his neck and throat, to which Cas happily obliges. “So I’ve been told,” Dean says huskily, the feel of Cas’ lips against his Adam’s apple as he speaks tickling and sending a wave of shivers down his arms.  
  
Cas' muffled words vibrate against Dean's throat, “I think you got beer on my pants, too.”  
  
“Oh?” Dean breathes, swallowing hard. Cas can’t mean...  
  
The hands on Dean’s waist move around to his lower back and hips, lower and lower until Cas' fingers are tucked into the back of his waistband. “Yeah, they’re all wet.”  
  
Not feeling the least apologetic, not with how things are going now, Dean says, “My bad.”  
  
“Hmm.”  
  
“Better get to your room and take care of that..?”  
  
Cas leans away and quirks a brow at him. Now both sides of his hair are mussed up and his cheeks are pink, blue eyes vibrant with pleasure. He's gorgeous. “Do I look like I need help?”  
  
Dean laughs and pushes him away gently so he can step away from the wall. “Maybe?” He’s going to fucking explode if he doesn’t get his own pants off but now that they’ve taken a breather and are looking at each other again, he hesitates with uncertainty.   
  
Cas sweeps his arm between them. “I’m trying to tell you what I want here with as much context as you usually give me. Actually more than what you tend to give me. Read between the lines, Dean.”  
  
Searching his eyes Dean finds sincerity and a vulnerability he doesn't see in Cas, like, ever. “So, uh, you’re cool then? With what Sam did?”  
  
“I did say I was impressed. His methods are questionable but the results are... acceptable. To me.”  
  
Dean gapes at Cas. “Wait, what?”  
  
Cas’ self-assured expression falters and he is the one who appears uncertain. “I-- I love you Dean.” He frowns. “I have for a long time. Isn’t marriage something people do when they’re in love?” Dean can feel his mouth drop open further but Cas continues, “I don’t see how anything has to change between us, except you and I can stop trying to keep our hands to ourselves.” Cas lifts his chin as if he’s steeling himself for an argument or challenge from Dean.  
  
But Dean can only shake his head incredulously. “What?” he repeats.  
  
“Oh, forget it, Dean.” Cas puts a hand against his belt buckle and turns to go to his room to finish changing. As soon as Cas disappears into his doorway, Dean snaps out of it and lightly jogs the rest of the way down the hall, smacking the half-way shut door open the rest of the way, startling Cas.  
  
Cas’ jeans are unzipped, the unbuckled belt in his belt loops holding them open to the sides, his bright boxers winking out and bringing a pop of color to the otherwise brown and colorless room. Dean strides right up to him, cups his cheeks and presses desperate kisses into his mouth with so much force they both stumble in the small room and Cas’ half-asses the edge of the bed.  
  
Cas instinctively grabs at Dean to keep from sliding off and falling to the floor, letting Dean help to push him further onto the bed. Dean follows and crawls over Cas as he pulls himself to sit on the center of the bed.  
  
Dean immediately straddles his lap, wrapping his legs around Cas’ waist and has to ask, "So you wanna keep these ill-gotten vows after all?"  
  
Cocking his head slightly, tilting his chin up as he considers how to respond, Cas finally replies, "They are only ill-gotten if you don't mean them and don't intend to make good on them."  
  
Dean grins, liking that answer, and presses his forehead to Cas', brushing their noses together gently, playfully. “Part of me really wants to be a dick and not give Sam the result he was after…”  
  
“But..?” Cas asks, pulling back, his eyes roaming from Dean’s lips, to his chest and zeroing in on the button of his jeans.  
  
“But I’m selfish,” Dean says and Cas’ eyes snap back up, “and I ain’t gonna lie. I’ve wanted you… for years. There's no one else, hasn't been for a long time.”  
  
Cas arches a brow. “And what are you going to do now that you have me?” His voice is dangerously deep, raw and gritty.  
  
“What am I not going to do?” Dean answers back just as deeply.  
  
They both share a smirk before pulling each other back in for a kiss.


	3. Cas' POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well. Nice to see you all again. I needed to step away from a more serious fic and write something more light-hearted. We left off with Dean in Cas' lap, in bed. This entire chapter is almost 3K-words worth of smut and fluff. Our guys make some promises. ENJOY!

Dean is one handsy bastard. The moment Cas gives the green light to allow Sam’s weird, meddling marriage to remain intact… well, Dean likes that. A lot.

Hands brushing across his hip, up his stomach, around his shoulders. The best has to be wide, calloused hands pressing against Cas’ pecs. No, no, wait. Hands against his lower back, pulling him in so their bodies are flush. That is the best.   
  
Dean’s hands are both tentative yet skilled, rough yet soft, firm yet gentle. This is so much different from the friendly shoulder pats and too-brief hugs they’ve shared before. Cas could let Dean touch his skin all day and he’s fairly certain he’d never tire of it.

Cas pulls his lips away from Dean’s but that doesn't stop Dean from putting his elsewhere. He kisses a row down one length of Cas’ jaw, gently biting the space where it hinges below Cas’ ear.

“Okay, wait, are we going to talk about any of this?”

“Talk about what?” Dean asks stiffly, his mouth pausing.

“I’ve got... rules.”

Dean perks up and pulls away to look at him. “Like… sexy rules?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “More like matrimony rules,” he says. Cas grins when Dean moans in disappointment and drops his forehead to Cas’ shoulder. He doesn't stay disappointed for long, his lips seeking out the flesh there while Cas continues.

“You can't be a remote or movie hog,” Cas says as he allows Dean to push him back onto the bed, Dean straddling his thighs, lips roaming. “I'm serious. I don't need to watch Indiana Jones ten times.”

“Mmmm,” Dean rumbles deeply, rolling his hips down to meet Cas’ groin.

“Uhh,” Cas’ eyes flutter closed, his fingers threaded in Dean’s silky, sable hair. “And, uh, you don't get to take point on every hunt.”  
  
“Uh-huh,” Dean agrees, trailing his tongue in patterns over Cas’ chest. “Whatever you say, dear.” The pet name comes out patronizing and Cas wonders if Dean is in his own little fantasy world.  
  
“Are you even listeni- ahh,” Cas moans when Dean’s fingers tease just under the band of his boxers, the sensation tickling sensitive nerves, causing his stomach muscles to tense.

“Yeah, well, you gotta cook dinner twice a week,” Dean mumbles, slipping his hand further into Cas’ boxers to grab his hip. Cas tries to wiggle in order to maneuver Dean’s hand closer to where he really wants it but Dean remains firmly out of reach.

“In that case you're on knife sharpening duty,” Cas practically growls in frustration, wondering why they’re still half-dressed.

“Only if you wash dishes while I dry.”

“Nuh-uh, I'll dry.” Cas grabs Dean’s jean-clad ass, pulling him down while he thrusts up. He relishes in Dean’s instant surrender.

“Yeah, okay, okay. I wash, you dry. N-noted.”

Somewhere along the way the demands turn into promises, a little less selfish a lot more thoughtful. “I'll make you apple -- _fuck_ \-- pie every day this week if you stop teas--”

Dean grabs Cas’ cock and applies firm pressure without moving his hand. “Promise?” Verdant eyes search him out, an amused curl to Dean’s lip.

Cas’ brain completely short circuits. “Huh?” he asks, breathless because _Dean is touching him… finally._

“Pie?” Dean strokes him twice, his smile growing, apparently delighted with himself for rendering Cas speechless.

“Yeah, mm hmm. Every. Day.” Cas is rewarded with a few more firm strokes. “I’ll shut my cakehole when you pick the music. No complaints.”  
  
“Hmm, I like that. Cheeseburgers, for you, every Sunday night. No matter what.”   
  
Cas whispers, “I lied. I’ll watch Indiana Jones as many times as you want, so long as I’m next to you.” It makes Dean laugh, so Cas smiles brightly.   
  
“I’ll give you half my dresser if you move in with me.”   
  
Cas leans up as best he can, his breath ghosting Dean’s ear. “I’ll stay with you forever if you let me.” Dean pulls away to search Cas’ eyes, his expression softening into adoration and affection, his already kiss-swollen lips coming back in to kiss Cas slow and tender.   
  
Not one to be outdone Dean stops long enough to whisper, “I’ll let you drive the Impala--” Cas cuts him off with a fervent kiss. Perhaps nothing else would come close to being a proclamation of love, at this point, than those six words. It occurs to Cas that his nine words only prior meant the same to Dean.   
  
They get lost in each other’s mouths, Dean still lazily stroking him without moving things forward. Cas’ lower half is pinned down by Dean’s weight so he can’t move his hips how he wants. Still, Cas whines in annoyance when Dean lets go and shifts as though he’s getting up.

But he isn’t moving away. He is merely adjusting his position. Cas sits up just as Dean comes back down, his skull meeting Dean’s temple.

“Fuck!” Dean rubs his temple vigorously.

“I agree. That is most unpleasant.”

Cas has to bite his lip to refrain from smiling when Dean channels his pain into aggressively pulling Cas’ jeans and then boxers off. The urge to smile vanishes as Dean sits above him, looking over Cas’ very naked body like he wants to devour it, but he isn't sure where to start. Which makes Cas flush hot. He’s wanted Dean to want him, he has thought Dean has wanted him, and now he can finally...

Cas silently tells Dean to finish undressing by sitting up on his elbows and plucking at Dean’s waistband.

“Impatient _cherub_ ,” Dean scolds. “Alright, I'll let you check out the goods. Calm down.”

“I've seen the goods, _homo sapien_ ,” Cas says the nickname bitingly.

“Wh-what? When?”

Cas shrugs, watching Dean like a hawk. “ _Cherub_ isn’t exactly a compliment. It’s an insult to my former position as a celestial being.”   
  
“My apologies, your majesty,” Dean says, back to playful bickering.   
  
Cas rolls his eyes and tries to buck his hips.“Tick tock. This erection isn't going to take care of itself with you just sitting there.”

Dean grins, scoots off the bed, popping the button loose and turning around to wiggle out of his clothes. He turns back around, pants and underwear still hooked around an ankle, making Dean stumble.

He grumbles as he kicks himself loose and crawls back over Cas. They both exhale loudly when their cocks touch.

“What're we doin?” Cas all but slurs, arching up to kiss Dean filthily.

Dean does look a little lost when he bites his lip and mumbles, “I dunno.”

“Is this why we're moving at a snail's pace?”

“Hey, I've waited a long fucking time for this. I… it's called foreplay. And I just wanna touch and taste and do everything all at once so it's confusing me and I don't even know where to begin,” Dean admits. “I don’t know what you like or want…”

Cas smiles slyly. “Okay, lets try this then, big boy.” Cas hooks a leg around Dean and rolls them both over. It isn't as smooth as he thought it'd be but he's got Dean where he wants him.

Dean looks at him in awe so Cas figures he did something alright, even if it seemed awkward. They're moving in the right direction now. Dean's hands are on his arms now, squeezing intermittently as Cas rolls his hips down to meet Dean, the pressure of their bodies against their erections working them up to quiet pants, pink-flushed skin.

Cas gives him a quick peck on the lips and moves lower, licking a long strip of spit-slick from the hollow of Dean’s throat and then lower, lower, lower.

When his chin bumps Dean’s erection Cas looks up. A heavy breathing, speechless Dean Winchester is staring down the length of his own body to watch.

“F-fuck, Cas. You're gorg--”

Whatever Dean was going to say is lost on a moan when Cas tilts his chin down and takes in just the head of Dean’s cock into his mouth, suckling gently.

Cas instantly moves to hold Dean’s hips still, pressing him into the mattress but Dean still wiggles, his feet rubbing up and down the bed space on either side of Cas’ body, head thrown back and fists full of bed sheet.

He takes in more of Dean, suckling more firmly as he guides him back out of his mouth, swallowing him down more before sucking back up.

“Teeth. Watch teeth,” Dean babbles.

Cas pulls off with an obscene pop. “Never done this before,” he states.

He won't continue until Dean gives some sort of encouragement and after a few heartbeats Dean must realize this because he opens his eyes and looks at him. “I ain't complainin’. Just letting you know to watch the teeth.”

Cas narrows his eyes, intent on making this good. “Okay, how do I do that?”

“You want-- what? A demonstration?” Dean smiles wickedly at him. “I've got an idea.”

Dean pats the space next to him. Curiously Cas crawls back over him, Dean letting out a loud ‘oomph’ when one of Cas’ knees digs into his thigh on the way up the bed.

“Sorry,” Cas mumbles.

“Okay lay down but lay with your head that way,” Dean says, indicating Cas should lay opposite of him. “I've always wanted to do this,” Dean says excitedly, suddenly confident now that he knows what direction he wants to go.

His words send a thrill through Cas even though he's unsure what they're doing. Because it means Dean hasn't done it with anyone else before. Or maybe Dean means he’s always wanted to do this _with Cas._

Continuing his instructions Dean says, “Okay lay on your side and face me,” and what it is they're going to do finally clicks in Cas’ brain.

“I like the way you think.” Cas licks the slit of the cock before him which makes Dean’s body jerk in surprise, to Cas’ delight. And then Dean’s hot breath is suddenly on his which makes him shudder expectantly.

“First, use your tongue and cheeks to create a, uh, barrier from too much teeth. Tiny little bit of scraping is okay if it's light, not too hard. Second, make it wet. Spit is good. Third, there's different amounts of pressure, depth, tongue movement… just do what I do, okay?”

And so Cas mirrors everything Dean does, which isn't as easy as it sounds. Because the sinful things Dean does to him are fed back to his own pleasure centers and distract him. His focus is split on feeling everything while reciprocating, having to mind his teeth, tongue, pressure, sucking, speed.

Dean starts off with a hand wrapped around the base of Cas' cock so Cas does the same to Dean, pulsing his hand gently. Then a teasing lick to explore and wet the throbbing shafts.

The skin is velvety soft yet ridged, throbbing from all the blood flowing and filling it up. It really is a remarkable organ. The flesh itself is almost tasteless but their intermittent presence of salty pre-come is what sends ripples of intense arousal through Cas.

Cas takes Dean in, curling his tongue around him, getting him nice and wet. Dean slips an arm between Cas’ legs and scoots closer so Cas repeats on his end, hand pressed to Dean’s lower back.

Dean sets a rhythmic pace and pressure that Cas tries to imitate. It's almost too much when Dean’s hand wanders from just above Cas’ ass down to cup a cheek, sliding down until his thumb brushes against the space underneath his balls.

Cas reflexively tenses, but he does the same, Dean jerking at the touch even though he should expect it. Dean pulls off and obscenely licks his tongue around a few of his fingers, taking the time to huskily say, “C’mon, Cas. Do what I do. Trust me.”

So Cas licks up his own fingers before he slides his arm back between Dean’s thighs. Spit dries fast so Dean doesn't waste time on sliding his middle finger around Cas’ hole before going in, taking Cas’ rock hard erection back into his mouth to continue his torturous licking and lazy suckling, distracting Cas from the slight burn that turns into sweet pleasure.

Dean moans so deliciously loud and raw when Cas reciprocates and enters him, before taking in his throbbing dick again, that it drives Cas to push his finger in deeper.

“Uh-huh,” Dean groans in approval around the cock in his mouth. And finally, _finally_ , Dean sets the quick pace and pressure they both need, bobbing beautifully over Cas’ shaft, hollowing his cheeks, the subtle texture of tongue caressing the top of Cas' shaft while a light scrape of teeth teases the large vein on the underside.

They're both dribbling spit and rocking into each other's mouths. It occurs to Cas in some distant corner of his mind that he's stopped copycatting Dean and is desperately chasing Dean to orgasm, taking initiative to just do what feels good and right. 

It's the most beautiful sound, Dean next to him rumbling in pleasure. His next throaty groan causes him to swallow around Cas, and without any fair warning to Dean, Cas is spilling down the back of his throat. Cas groans loudly at the implosion, his own mouth stops moving but closes tight around Dean, earning Cas happy hums from the man next to him. Cas shudders, needing Dean to just stay put for a few seconds longer. 

And Dean does, happily coaxing Cas through his orgasm and swallowing several times to get it all down. He removes his finger and pulls his mouth from his dick with a pop. Cas loses his rhythm only temporarily, picking it up back after he’s spent so that Dean can come.

Dean pants and mumbles, “C-Cas. ‘M close. You, you don't hafta swallow…”

Cas makes an angry sound that is supposed to mean, _"F_ _uck off and watch me,"_ but he isn't sure Dean will understand. Apparently it doesn't matter. With Dean’s mouth free he noisily hums his approvals, a soft string of Cas’ name spilling from his lips.

With Cas' finger still buried in Dean, he urges Dean to move. Dean finally gets the memo after a few noisy prompts and bumps from Cas' wrist against his ass. He carefully thrusts into Cas’ mouth. “Mm-hmm,” Cas encourages so Dean does it again, holding onto Cas’ legs for leverage as he pumps himself in and out of Cas’ wet, hot mouth.   
  
It takes a couple of thrusts to adjust to the deeper depth that Dean takes, but Cas quickly adjusts. And just to see what happens Cas moves his chin side-to-side so the pressure of his tongue is applied to different areas of Dean’s cock, eliciting a low and long moan from Dean, and a quicker pace.

Cas adds a second finger and scissors them, listening to the beautiful sound of Dean’s gasp for the welcome intrusion. His hips stutter and his fingers tighten on Cas’ flesh.

Even knowing Dean is about to ejaculate does nothing to prepare Cas for the pressure in which it hits his throat nor the amount. He quickly swallows, rolling his fingers in a circle inside of Dean, while milking Dean’s cock until he's oversensitive and shaking.

Cas pulls off and rolls onto his back, trying to catch his breath, moving his jaw back-and-forth. He could have done that all day. The feel of Dean, the taste of him, but mostly the sounds. There is no more heavenly sound to Cas than Dean's incoherent slurs, his drawn-out "Cas", murmurs, groans and moans. Dean doesn't hold back like most people. He noisily let Cas know he liked it and that he liked it a lot.

It takes several minutes for either of them to speak. “That was… awesome,” Dean breathes out loud and Cas can't refrain from smiling at the smile he hears in Dean’s voice.

His praise causes Cas to sit up and move over so that he can lay next to Dean, a little unsure about the whole intimacy thing still and how much contact is good. But Dean laughs and pulls Cas into his arms, soundly kissing Cas’ cheek, and chasing away all doubt. Cas relaxes into the awkward side-lying hug, his head pillowed on Dean's shoulder and his bottom arm pinned beneath him.

“We should move to my room,” Dean says into the quiet room.

“Why?” Cas doesn't want to move, not yet.

“Because memory foam, for one. And lube, for two. Apparently this is our wedding night? Honeymoon? And after teasing my ass you'd better believe I'm gonna be up for round two.” Dean grows quiet. “Unless you're not..?”

Cas huffs indignantly. “Don't be ridiculous, Dean. I'd be honored to fuck you into your precious mattress.”

Dean starts to move, trying to pull his arm out from under Cas' neck. “Oh my God, get up. Go to my room now,” Dean practically whines.

“I'd prefer you keep my father out of this.”

“What're you talkin’ -- Jesus Christ, Cas!”

“Him, too," Cas says in a quiet, serious voice, the back of his head hitting the mattress when Dean's arm finally gets freed.  
  
Dean rolls onto his side to catch Cas' eye, to see if he's joking. Cas can't help it: he laughs and Dean playfully pinches his bicep. “I thought I was the incorrigible one.”

“Oh, you are.” Cas rolls over to face Dean and presses kisses around his face. “But I'd take you over a corrigible person any day.”

“Will you ‘take me’ in my room now?” Dean asks, catching Cas’ lips. They lazily kiss and lick and taste themselves on each other, lost to the moment until they're both gently rutting fresh erections against one another.

Cas seems to remember Dean asked him a question. His voice is thick and raspy when he answers. “I will. I will take you in here,” he says, kissing the corner of Dean’s mouth, “in your room, bent over the kitchen table,” he kisses his cheekbone, “in the Library…” Cas lowers his voice and brushes his lips against Dean’s ear, “Even in your car.”

“Ugh, I love it when my husband talks dirty to me.”

“Say that again,” Cas commands.

“Talk dirty to me?”

“No, the other part.”

“My husband..?”

“Out of everything you've ever called me, I think that one is the best. What are we waiting for? Get your naked ass to your room and find the lubricant you keep bragging about having.”  
  
Dean bites his lip and smiles, getting up and offering a hand to help Cas up. But instead of leading the way he pauses in the middle of the room to wrap his arms around Cas, bending his head down to press his nose into Cas' neck.  
  
"Hey Cas?" Dean whispers.  
  
"Yes, Dean?"   
  
Dean presses his lips into Cas' neck and pulls away with a mischievous smile. "Race ya," he says quietly before gently pushing Cas to set him off-balance, turning to run out the door.   
  
"You cheat! Now you're really gonna get it."  
  
He can hear Dean's laugh echo from down the hall and a loud, "Promise?"  
  
"Oh, I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for following along! Will there be more? I'm not sure. There's no real plot/purpose. I'll just add chapters as I see fit, if I'm so inspired. If you want to know when more is added click SUBSCRIBE (should be top of your page) and you'll get email alerts when I add to THIS specific story. 
> 
> If there's anything specific you'd like to see in the future please do drop me a comment. 
> 
> ~The Twisted Willow~

**Author's Note:**

> You guys!!! Thank you for encouraging me to continue this. I had several ideas for how to go about it and ended up going with both of them wavering between being BAMFs and uncertain about how to proceed. In the end I think they'll be happy together, once they figure out how to coexist in their new roles. Ah, it was supposed to be a one-shot y'all, but this fic has been fun. 
> 
> Leave comments, questions, concerns and don't forget to give me a BIG OLD KUDOS if you likey because they make me smile.
> 
> ~TheTwistedWillow~


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